Page 63
At that, he gives in and relaxes on top of me, sneaking his arms under my shoulders to cradle my head, angling it the way he wants, alternating kisses on either side of my neck, nips at my ears.
“You have to tell me what you like. What you don’t like.” He meets my gaze, sincerity dripping from his words. “If something bothers you, don’t let it go.”
“You think I would? Let it go?”
He studies my face like he’s memorizing it. “I think you’d keep quiet to make me happy, and I don’t want that. I think you’d let a lot of things slide because you don’t want to be a problem.”
I hum indignantly. That he knows me so well. “The first time I had sex, it lasted approximately ten seconds.”
“Long enough for you to get pregnant.”
“Yeah, like a science experiment gone wrong,” I say, earning a twitch of his lips. “But the times after that, I liked it.”
“Tell me more,” he says into my neck, once again sucking on the sensitive skin over my pulse point.
“It was with a woman. I find that women tend to be more understanding and forgiving when it comes to dating. When I go on dates with men, I can’t get out of my head and they’re put off by me, but women are more patient. There was this one girl…” I met Britta through an online group. She was also neurodivergent, and we met up for coffee a few times. She was easy for me to talk to, and when she invited me to her apartment, I said yes. When she asked if she could kiss me, I said yes. And when she asked if she could take my clothes off, I said yes. “She showed me things about my body, took the time to let me explore and taught me ways to be more comfortable.”
Austin leans up on his elbows, the color heightened in his cheeks, eyes bright with lust. “What did you learn?”
“That it might take me a long time to orgasm, but I will eventually, as long as nothing pulls me out of the moment.”
“What helps?”
“Keeping the temperature of the room on the warmer side.”
He glances over his shoulder toward the thermostat in the corner of the room. “Are you warm enough?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What else helps?”
“Not wearing anything with a scent?”
He ducks his chin, as if smelling his T-shirt. “Do you want me to shower?”
I smile into a kiss. “No. You’re good.”
“What else?”
Since he’s asking, I lay it all out there. “I like a firm touch, no tickling. I’m also on an SSRI, so I guess you could say I have low libido. But what you did for me today…taking me to the museum, and how you are with me right now, caring and making me feel safe… I want to be with you. I’m excited to be with you.”
Sitting back on his knees, he slips his shirt over his head, revealing his bare chest and torso. “Is it better for me to talk to you about what we’re doing or just do it?”
“I don’t like to be surprised, so if you want to do something, tell me, and I’ll tell you what I need. Is that okay?”
“Very.” He pinches the cotton of my shorts. “I want you naked. As soon as possible.”
That suits me fine, and I help him strip off my shorts and underwear. My vest and top are gone with two tugs, but when I move to lie down, he stops me. “I want you on top.”
I’m not opposed to that, and I scoot over on the bed to give him room, but he stands to remove his pants, revealing long, muscled legs, and then his underwear is on the floor and all my attention is on his jutting erection. Thick and veiny and a ruddy color.
For all that I know about biology and anatomy, Austin is an entirely new specimen, and I want to learn him. I move to the edge of the mattress on my knees. “Can I touch you?”
“I might die if you don’t.”
“I hope you’re joking.” I set my palms on his pectorals, skating them up to his trapezius and over his deltoids. Even as he holds still, tension thrums below his skin, his ever-present restlessness. I trace over the hills and valleys of his biceps and elbows.
“I wouldn’t joke about this.” His voice is a rasp as I curve my hands along his sides, the muscles there taut, his obliques creating a shallow curve that leads to a nest of dark hair. When I follow that line, making a tight fist around the base of his shaft before pulling on it, he exhales harshly. “You’re killing me.”
